


disappear til tomorrow

by NightxPine



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, Faked Death, M/M, i mean the raychael's there but only explicitly near the v end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 06:47:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6042103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightxPine/pseuds/NightxPine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine Ray faked his death in order to leave the Fake AH Crew completely - so that his old life doesn’t end up mixing with the new start he wants - but didn’t tell the rest of the crew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	disappear til tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> Small idea I wanted to get down. Also, I haven't really explored these two as much as I'd have liked, so that was a plus.
> 
> hmu on tumblr @ [nightxpine.tumblr.com](http://nightxpine.tumblr.com/)
> 
> title is a line from the song 'olympic airways' by Foals

Sitting, waiting in pitch black darkness was not something Michael had anticipated doing for the better part of the day. He’d stubbornly refused to leave his seat until the front door opened and his stomach was suffering for it. He still ignored it. It was getting late enough, though, that he started doubting himself, followed by the crushing feeling of having his hope ripped away from him again. He’d just followed this lead out on a limb. He had no real evidence that his suspicions were right. It could just be wishful thinking.

When keys rattling sounded outside the door to the apartment, he immediately perked up, back straightening in his seat and mind snapping away from the negative thoughts swarming in his mind. A door creaking, a sliver of light expanding across the weathered wood of the coffee table, the light flicked on, briefly blinding Michael. Then there was a muttered curse. Blinking, Michael’s eyes adjusted enough to see the unmistakable small frame of the one and only Ray Narvaez Jr. Michael felt a wave of relief and anger wash over him. He stood by his door, stiff and wide-eyed behind his glasses, conflict clearly written on his face. He was carrying a canvas bag filled with numerous things.

He was probably debating whether it was too late for him to run.

“Ray.” He greeted, simply. He couldn’t keep the small accusation from seeping into his voice though.

Ray gave an awkward nod of his head, hesitant, “Michael.” It was a start. However, he still stood there, unmoving.

Michael gave Ray’s apartment an obvious look over. “Nice place.” That seemed to stir the other man into walking further into his flat, dropping his keys onto the open kitchen counter. The sound of metal hitting quartz ringing in the silent apartment. 

“How did you find me?” Always quick to the point, Michael mused fondly.

His mouth ticked up into a bitter half-smile. “Being friends with Gavin does have its perks.”

Now that the initial shock had worn off, Ray looked mildly irritated, dark brows furrowed. “Does anyone else know you’re here?” There was a touch of desperation in his voice and Michael frowned.

“No, I wanted to make sure first.” Sighing, Ray turned away from him and entered his kitchen, emptying the canvas bag of groceries and sorting them away into the fridge and cupboards. It was ridiculously normal. Michael was struck by a twang of annoyance. “D’you want to maybe tell me why you faked your death then?”

From his spot on the couch, Michael could see the way Ray stopped what he was doing to lean heavily on the counter, back still turned to the crew’s demolitions expert and head bowed.

“If I tell you,” he started, “you need to first promise not to get mad.”

Glad to finally be getting an answer, Michael easily agreed, “Sure, I won’t, just– spit it out, already.” Ray shot him a disbelieving look, but kept his word.

He took a deep breath. “I wanted to get away from it – the life, the crew, all of it – without having to live in constant fear of my life for some sorry bastard on a ridiculous vengeance trip.” Michael felt multiple things at once. His overwhelming relief that his best friend was alive and safe. His anger at the loss he was forced to go through. But most of all, he felt hurt. Hurt that Ray would want to do such a thing, leave his crew who all cared infinitely for him, without so much of a second thought.

“Oh, God, Michael, of course I thought about you guys first.” Ray quickly stammered out. His eyes looked slightly glassy with emotion, and Michael felt his own eyes grow damp. “You were actually the reason I needed to fake my death.”

Michael snorted. “That’s why?” His voice started to rise a fraction, “Ray, please, if some guy hell-bent on looking for you came to us, we’d easily be able to overpower him. We’re the best goddamn crew in Los Santos, no one will mess with us.”

The other man huffed, frustrated now. “I can’t leave you to deal with my problems for me, Michael.” Ray took a quick few steps out of the kitchen, “And what if you get separated, one of you gets tortured because they think you know where I am.” Michael couldn’t think of anything else to say, resulting in a lengthy, tense pause.

“What made you want to leave.” Michael finally brought himself around asking.

“Video games.” He said it so indifferently, with a small shrug of his shoulders like it was the most natural thing, that Michael let out a bark of surprised laughter. Ray’s mouth cracked into a grin, and suddenly they were laughing raucously.

It was almost as though nothing happened, and the past month had only been a bad dream. But then his phone buzzed with a message and he remembered the others.

“Ray, can I at least tell the guys you’re okay?” Michael pleaded, but the point was moot.

Ray’s brown eyes flashed with distress. “Michael, you know you can’t.” Heaving a sigh, Michael gave a reluctant nod and didn’t question it any further.

He stayed in Ray’s apartment for a while, catching up with him, asking how he’d settled in, what he was planning on doing with his time now that he was no longer with the crew, how he’d faked his death. Ray had laughed at that last one – “considering how I’m always alone on a perch as the sniper, it was pretty easy to drop the comm and create an explosion” – and they had slipped back into their easy routine by the end.

When Michael’s phone buzzed twice in quick succession, he reluctantly decided that it was time to leave. Ray was wearing a sad smile when he led Michael to the door. They lingered there, neither wanting to move. Michael broke the silence.

“I will see you around, right?” The corner of Ray’s lip quirked up into a half-grin.

“Yeah, I’m gonna haunt the shit out of you.”

Michael pulled Ray into a tight hug and the younger enthusiastically returned it, clutching at the back of his shirt. Ray was the first to pull back.

“I love you, Michael. And,” he exhaled, “I’m sorry.” Feeling a tug at his chest, Michael smiled at him, trying to convey all the love and forgiveness he could muster.

“Good luck, Ray.” And with that, he stepped out of Ray’s apartment, looking behind his shoulder at Ray for the first several steps. He’d made his way to the end of the hall when Ray’s voice called out to him.

“Say hi to the crew for me.”

Michael grinned.


End file.
